


The Memory Repeats

by MagpieWords



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2018 - MagpieWords [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Breathplay, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends With Benefits, Gaslighting, M/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Doubt, but that's basically the only happy thing in this fic, dub-con, it's generally a bad time, past abusive relationship, self-gaslighting, tony and natasha and bruce are roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWords/pseuds/MagpieWords
Summary: Tony could only describe what he was feeling as "wrong" and couldn't figure out any more than that. It's really not the right time for Steve to want to try new things in their already fragile relationship, but how could Tony possibly say no to him?





	The Memory Repeats

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tony Stark Bingo, square T1: Dark
> 
> This fic is a spiritual successor to [Your Memory Invades Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9892538). I'm currently less mad at Steve, but he's still convenient to use while I cope through Tony.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS!! This fic is very serious dub-con. I didn't want to tag it as non-con, because I didn't think it qualified for that, but _please_ be careful before reading.

“Arbor Day isn’t a real holiday. This party is stupid,” Tony pointed out for the fifth time that evening as he grabbed his second can of beer off their shitty coffee table.

Bruce laughed, unaffected by another one of Tony’s unexpected moods. When Bruce had mentioned this idea a few weeks ago, Tony had been thrilled. There was some joke about watching _The Lorax_ and getting stoned, but their dvd player was broken again and Natasha never heard back from her dealer.

Natasha, who was simultaneously the best and worst roommate of the three of them, had stopped paying attention to Tony’s complaining once their guests arrived. Well, guests was perhaps a generous way to put it – Bucky and Steve basically lived here with how often they were over. Now that Tony was thinking about it, calling this a party was probably pretty generous too. Five friends sitting around and drinking to whatever new-age vaporwave nonsense Bruce had playing on some tinny Bluetooth speakers was a pretty lame excuse for a party.

Tony sighed into his drink, trying desperately to think less. No matter how lame, he should love hanging out with his friends like this. He normally did. Something about tonight was… for lack of a better word, wrong. It was wrong and the more Tony tried to think about why it was wrong, the more everything felt off balance and fuzzy around the edges. That sickening feeling pushed another long swallow of beer down his throat, trying to avoid whatever was bothering him.

He almost choked on his drink when the arm draped casually across his shoulders slid down his spine. Steve wasn’t exactly being subtle either, smirking at Tony in that way he did where he thought he was being clever. Tony was always amused but never impressed, and tonight was no exception. Well, tonight was an exception – Tony wasn’t amused.

He liked Steve, of course he did. How could he not? The guy was earnest to a fault, charming without coming across obnoxious, and he was so talented. Sure, Tony was smart, but he couldn’t begin to understand Steve’s process with art. Their friendship meant a lot, to both of them, clearly. They had tip-toed around each other for years during college and it was only in the last year that Natasha had finally pushed them together. At the apartment-warming party, six months after graduation (“We can’t have a party until we’re unpacked!” Bruce resisted the urge to kick over one of the boxes littering the living room. “Okay, then unpack your stuff,” Tony had said from the couch. “None of these are mine! How do you and Nat own so much junk?”) Natasha spent the night on a quest as Steve’s personal bartender. He didn’t drink in college, not with what a lightweight he was. But one summer working and modelling for a gym and he was completely different. Still the same loveable art nerd, but with biceps that Tony was nearly drooling over.

Even with the muscle mass, it didn’t take long to get Steve swaying. Tony had hardly said three words to the guy before Steve was crashing their lips together. The night was hazy, but that was fine. There had been several other very memorable nights between the two of them.

Well, there _had_ been. Now with their jobs and Steve’s art and Tony’s constant family obligations, they almost never saw each other. And when they were together, they were with friends- Natasha and Bucky were a couple and they usually toned it down around everyone else. Steve and Tony were friends with benefits at best, so they knew better than to get handsy when all their friends just wanted to eat free breadsticks at Olive Garden. Tony couldn’t remember how long it had been since Steve kissed him, let alone something more. While he couldn’t remember the passage of time, he could certainly remember the events themselves. He should love when Steve touched him like this, but something about it tonight was wrong in a way Tony still couldn’t describe.

The noise from him choking on his beer quickly caught Bruce’s attention. Tony watched his roommate’s eyes follow the line of Steve’s arm, watched with horror as Bruce’s face turned scarlet. Everything felt off balance – he couldn’t handle making his closest friend uncomfortable, even though some fuzzy edge of his brain seemed to say it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. He tried not to think about it, tried to push away the nauseating feeling the only way he could.

He didn’t mean to slam the nearly full drink on the old coffee table, but his momentum from standing was too fast to stop it. “Well!” He said, throwing on an awkward grin. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Natasha and Bucky spared him a glance, before shrugging in unison and going back to their intense conversation about _Black Swan_ or whatever, like Tony didn’t even exist. Which was fine, whatever, he could handle this situation by himself.

Instead, there was movement behind him. Steve was standing too now, one hand snaking its’ way around Tony’s waist, while the other grabbed the beer. He downed, Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that should make Tony’s heart speed up. Which it did, but in the wrong way. The hand on his hip tightened.

“Great idea, doll,” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s ear before changing tactics and latching his teeth to the sensitive shell. Tony’s body reacted without much input from anything else, shuddering as Steve bit down and pulled with just the wrong amount of force. Tony normally liked when it hurt a little, but not tonight.

He turned in Steve’s grip, ready to explain, to slow all of this down. Bruce was still staring at them and Tony couldn’t have this conversation here. He caught Steve’s wide blue eyes and realized he couldn’t have this conversation at all. How could he say no to that face? It was clear how much Steve had missed him, had missed their time together. And Tony did too – or he thought he did? Yesterday he definitely did, why shouldn’t tonight be the same? Maybe tonight wasn’t wrong at all. Maybe Tony was wrong.

Either way, doing this in the living room wasn’t an option. He gave an apologetic look to Bruce, who rolled his eyes. Fuck, apologetic from Tony sometimes came off as devil-may-care. He was definitely what was wrong. Tonight had to be Tony's fault.

There was a silver lining though. If it was Tony’s fault, Tony could fix it. He took Steve’s hand off his waist and into his own, leading him down the hall to the bedrooms. He could hear the conversation shift as soon as he left, including Bruce in the discussion of another dance movie. None of them had to be uncomfortable because of Tony anymore, even if Tony felt like his own skin was crawling. Just Bruce’s closed door across the hall felt like eyes on him, felt wrong as Steve pulled Tony flush against him. The thin fabric of Steve’s jogging shorts left nothing to the imagination.

“At least let me get the door open,” he managed to mumble.

“Thought you liked putting on a show,” Steve’s mouth was against his neck, then moved to teasing his ear again. They’d talked about that, talked about everything. Steve knew that Tony had a pretty wild exhibitionist streak, that his ears were sensitive, just the right ways he liked to be – God, the fuzziness got worse the more Tony tried to think about just how much Steve knew about him.

One small, clear part of his mind reminded Tony that he had told Steve exactly where the edges of that exhibition kink were. Consent from all parties involved was an obvious line in the sand. Getting frisky around friends in the living room was not a situation where everyone had given consent. He thought Steve knew that.

Of course Steve knew that, Tony felt awful for even thinking of him like that. A few light touches shouldn’t have ruffled Bruce’s feathers, not when Nat was practically in Bucky’s lap as they talked. None of it should have made Tony fell so wrong. Tonight was just fine. Why did he feel so weird?

Tony was just able to guide Steve inside his room, when another bite to his ear made his legs turn to jelly. The door hardly closed before Steve was all over him. Lips and teeth and tongue, a burning kiss that left no room for air. Steve seemed to catch that Tony was off balance and solved the issue by simply picking him up. He molded Tony like the clay he used in all his beautiful sculptures, legs curling around Steve’s tapered waist. Tony loved being manhandled and he could only remember one or two times when Steve seemed confident enough to actually do it. He should be thrilled about this.

“Steve,” Tony tried to say, sounding anything but thrilled. The words were lost as he tried to grab air between the onslaught of kisses. “Slow down.”

At least Steve moved away from his mouth, leaving Tony to feel like the cotton in his brain spread to coat his throat. He wanted to brush his teeth, which was a wrong impulse to have after a kiss. He should want to kiss Steve.

Steve didn’t seem to mind, very enthusiastic to leave dark hickeys high on Tony’s neck. They hurt, but Tony liked pain, right? They had talked about that too, talked about the edges of where bites should be. Anything that would be visible over Tony’s suit collar was the clear line to stop at – why didn’t Steve remember that? Maybe Tony was wrong, maybe he hadn’t told him before? He thought he did, but all his memories were so fuzzy.

“Mm,” Steve hummed against his throat. The sensation made Tony squirm, made it seem like he was rutting against Steve but he – he didn’t mean to? Or did he? “I think I know what we should try tonight. And I can tell you’re excited about it.” Was he? If Steve said so, Tony must be. Steve was always in his right mind. He remembered things, Tony could trust him.

Steve almost dropped Tony on the bed, clumsy to crawl across him, grinding down with a poor attempt at smooth motion. They fumbled over removing Tony’s shirt, Steve’s hands starting on his own belt, before moving to kiss Tony again. He couldn’t help himself; Tony turned his head at the last second, giving Steve access to his ear again.

“Good boy,” Steve whispered and Tony almost thought he was going to puke. Every word of endearment tonight felt like poison. Maybe if he’d had a little more to drink he’d be able to explain the sick feeling, but he’d hardly had anything over the course of the night.

Steve must have gotten bored with teasing him, taking the initiative to wrap Tony’s legs around his waist again. A firm grip took Tony’s chin and Steve kept Tony in place as they drowned in a kiss. It should have been wonderful. It was the kind of kiss Tony fantasized about on those endless nights where he was in another country or Steve was working another late shift. For fuck’s sake, Steve never kissed him like this when he was sober.

That’s when it hit him. Steve had a lot to drink over the course of the night. Bucky had even mentioned something about pregaming before getting a Lyft over. Tony could smell it on Steve’s breath, could taste it flooding his own mouth. It was overwhelming and horrible, but for one brief moment, the toxically familiar sensation made his mind clear. 

Steve never took charge. He was soft spoken most of the time, almost shy. Those few times Tony remembered Steve literally sweeping him off his feet were at parties – actual parties, where they were both out of their minds, only aware enough to know that every touch felt good. Steve only kissed him this fiercely when their lips tasted like sweet liquor or that one beer from the brewery Steve took them for their second date.

Tony had been kissing on instinct, working from all those memories, but now that everything clicked into place, he stopped responding. Steve didn’t notice. Steve couldn’t notice; he may have more muscles than he could ever need, but he was still a lightweight in all the one way that mattered. He basically became a different person after two drinks, and Tony had no idea how much was in his system tonight.

Tony felt his breathing pick up pace and the clarity of his mind started to melt away. Only one thought was left, screaming at him above the static of everything else. Tony could not trust Steve.

The firm grip holding his face in place moved, but before Tony could feel grateful, that grip took another hold. Steve’s hands were wide, calloused from different scratches of charcoal or smooth after a layer of chalk. Tony loved how they wrapped around his own hands. He thought he would love how one could wrap around his throat. They had talked about breath play, the last time they checked in with each other nearly a month ago before their schedules fell out of sync. They would be careful with it, as they intended to be with any new kink. Intended being the key word, since they unfortunately rarely were as careful as they should be. Now that Tony thought about it, he couldn’t remember a time they tried something new while they were sober.

Was that what was wrong with tonight? If Tony was drunk too, would that make all of this right?

Right or wrong, it didn’t matter. There was a hand on his throat, impossibly wide, pressing in with the hickeys until Tony was stuttering for air. Steve kissed his gaping lips, but Tony could hardly feel any of it. Panic gripped him. No matter what, Steve would never intentionally harm Tony, but there was nothing intentional about tonight. Everything Tony had asked Steve to be careful of had been forgotten – their friends, the hickeys, the pain. Steve could hardly walk straight to the bedroom; he couldn’t be trusted with Tony’s life right now. After this, Tony was pretty sure he couldn’t bring himself to trust Steve with anything ever again.

He wanted to push against Steve, should have kicked and screamed despite the fleeting breath in his lungs. Instead, he was frozen. Everything was fuzzy and a little too far away. Even the panic pumping through his stuttering heart was a something he couldn’t quite grasp. More than that, Steve was a solid wall of muscle; even if Tony wasn’t so distant, there’d be no way to fight back. If Steve squeezed his throat too hard, there was nothing Tony could do to stop him. 

The pressure released. Air flooded his senses and Tony sat up, only just realizing that Steve had leaned back. He wasn’t straddling Tony anymore. Instead, he was sitting on his heels between Tony’s spread legs. When had his jeans come off? Why couldn’t he remember being down to nothing but his underwear? Steve was still wearing most of his clothes. This was so wrong.

“Tony, are you okay? You’re crying.” Steve reached out a hand, to wipe away the tears Tony had failed to notice. He didn’t get very close. What started as a flinch backwards became an all out scramble as Tony pulled his kneels to his chest, pressing himself as far away as he could until the headboard dug into his spine. “Tony?”

“Steve, you’re drunk.”

Steve gave a small laugh, like that was some inside joke, one that Tony should know. “Yeah, I am. Who knew April was a party month.”

It was April? Of course Arbor Day was in April, Tony knew that. He’d been so busy with work that maybe he hadn’t noticed what month it was. Maybe he had tried not to notice as the end of the month approached. As Ty Stone’s birthday approached. As a day that used to mean Tony bending over backwards to make everything perfect, and still falling short. His boyfriend was always disappointed on his birthday. Or maybe his boyfriend was just always disappointed. Did Tony ever do what was right to make him happy? Why was Tony always wrong?

But that… that was years ago now. Tony had left Ty just before the end of their second year of college. Just before Ty’s birthday. Just after planting a tree at some family function? None of that made any sense. Had he dumped his boyfriend on Arbor Day? No, Ty wouldn’t let Tony dump him. Not so close to his birthday. He’d gotten Tony cornered, blinking so sweetly at him. _Tony, baby, sweetheart. Please stay. How could you say no to this face? Can’t you just be good for me on my birthday?_ There had been too much sweet liquor that night and Tony stayed for another month before deciding to transfer schools. He blocked Ty’s number. He changed addresses twice and told no one. That part of his life was over.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice brought him back, but everything was still fuzzy around the edges. Past and present blurring together until he wasn’t sure what room he was in.

“We’re over.”

“What?”

“I need to leave.” Tony stood, wobbling for only a second before gaining his footing. He grabbed his discarded jeans and started to the door. Oh, his door. This was his room.

“Tony,” Steve tried to follow, but he wobbled and fell back on the bed.

Tony sighed. “You’re drunk, Steve. Just sleep in here.”

“Tony, I don’t understand what’s going on. Please stay.”

He turned back, making the mistake of looking at Steve’s wide blue eyes. How could he say no to that face? “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get you some water.”

Steve seemed to think that was okay. He mumbled something that was complete gibberish, but it seemed to be affirmative. When Tony came back not two minutes later, he was already passed out, drooling on the pillows. Tony left the glass on the nightstand – Steve would appreciate the gesture in the morning. Would Steve even remember any of this in the morning?

The living room was empty. No one was awake to witness what had happened. Hopefully, tonight would be just a strange memory for Steve; maybe he wouldn’t remember at all and there’d be no awkward apologies or empty promises that it would never happen again. And just like so many nights with Ty, Tony swore himself to secrecy in the special silence of an unknown time past midnight. One wrong, drunk night was not about to ruin the safe circle of friends he held so dear in the years after college. He curled up on the ratty couch, arms curling around himself in lieu of a blanket. With their busy schedules, he probably wouldn’t see Steve for a few weeks after this. It’d be easy enough to say he already had plans if Steve asked him to go for dinner and drinks. Before long, friends with benefits would go back to being just friends. Maybe, the next time April rolled around, this night would be another fuzzy memory, leaving him only with the feeling of something very wrong whenever a wide hand slid against his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://magpiewords.tumblr.com).


End file.
